Five Stages
by Scrawlers
Summary: "There are things we don't want to happen but have to accept, things we don't want to know but have to learn, and people we can't live without but have to let go." Each of Luke's companions handles grieving him a little differently. [Post-game, prior to the after-credits stinger.]


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Tales of the Abyss or any of its properties.

**Notes: **This was written forever ago as a response to a prompt on tumblr. I've finally decided to update this account with something, though, and thought it this was still good enough to make it here.

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><p><em>"There are things we don't want to happen but have to accept, things we don't want to know but have to learn, and people we can't live without but have to let go."<em> —Author Unknown

**Five Stages**

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><p><strong>1.) Denial<strong>

He promised he'd come home, and if there was one thing Luke wasn't, it was a liar.

That wasn't to say that he hadn't tried to lie, of course. He had, on numerous occasions. But he was a terrible liar and an easy read, and because of that catching him in his lies was always easy.

Well, or maybe it was just easy for Guy.

Whatever the case, he hadn't been lying when he made that promise. Guy knew that, as well as he knew his own name. Luke hadn't lied. He'd told the truth, which meant that he was coming back, because while Luke had attempted to lie in the past, he always kept his promises. Guy believed in him for that.

So, given that he promised that he'd come home, Guy waited for him. Every day, on the edge of the selenia hill in Tataroo Valley, Guy looked out over the ocean at Hod, and he waited. He had duties in Grand Chokmah to tend to, of course—House of Lords meetings to sit through, Peony's rappigs to tend to, Jade's errands to run—but all of that could wait. It wasn't important—not in comparison to this. Not in comparison to Luke. And so Guy would sit there each day, cross-legged on the edge of the hill, the Jewel of Gardios propped up against his shoulder. Watching. Waiting.

This went on for three months straight before he heard someone approach him from behind.

"Guy." It was Jade, and while Guy respected the man—really, he truly did—he didn't even bother to turn around.

"Whatever it is, tell Pere. He'll take care of it."

"It has been three months." Guy clenched his fists, but he still didn't turn, his blue eyes fixated on the ocean—on Hod.

"Yeah, I know. He's late. Never was one for punctuality, y'know? Used to oversleep all the time unless someone woke him up. That someone was usually me, though Duke Fabre never knew. I was never allowed in his room, after all. It wasn't the place for a mere servant."

"You can't stay here forever."

Guy closed his eyes. "I won't. I'm only waiting here until he comes back. He's late, but he probably won't be that much longer now."

"Guy—"

"He promised." Guy tried to make his voice strong, but it still cracked on _promised_. He cleared his throat, and tried again. "He's coming back. He promised he would, and I believe him. Besides, someone has to be here for when he gets back, right? So he won't think he's been abandoned. Just like before. I waited then, and I can wait now. Just a little longer."

Jade didn't say anything else, and after a few moments, Guy heard him leave the meadow, though he had a suspicion that he didn't leave Tataroo Valley entirely. Whether he did or not didn't change anything, though. Guy would remain there, on that hilltop, his eyes focused squarely on Hod, his position never wavering. After all, he'd already lost his parents. He'd already lost Mary. He'd even lost Van, the one who'd been like a big brother to him, all those years ago in his childhood.

He couldn't stand to lose his little brother, too.

And so he'd remain there, watching. Waiting. Even when all forms of reason told him to do otherwise.

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><p><strong>2.) Anger<strong>

She was supposed to reform the Order. She wanted to reform the Order. But reforming the Order was hard when you could hardly focus on any one thing for more than five seconds.

Of course, there was one thing that her brain wanted to focus on, more than anything else—one person, really, though Anise was trying her level best not think about him at all.

Some people made that difficult.

"Anise, I brought you some tea." Anise lifted her head from the window of the Daath cathedral's library, and looked over as her mother brought a tea tray over, setting it by Anise's feet on the window seat. Anise leaned her head back against the window, staring out at Daath. The sky was overcast, thick with grey clouds. Likely as not, Daath would see less tourists because of it. It would be a good day for Florian to play, then. Maybe she could take him up to see the butterflies by the fifth monument. Ion had always liked the butterflies up there, and—

"Anise?" Her mother sat down on the very edge of the window seat, and reached over to put a hand on Anise's shoulder. Anise jerked her shoulder away. "Anise, sweetheart, please talk to me. I want to help—"

"I don't _need_ help, Mama," Anise snapped, and while she felt the tiniest shred of guilt at the hurt and worried expression on her mother's face, it was eclipsed completely by her irritation. "I'm doing just fine on my own."

Her mother was silent for a moment before she said quietly, "Honey, I just think you need to talk about what happened. You lost a lot of people that were dear to you very quickly." Anise clenched her jaw. "First Fon Master Ion, and then Arietta—"

"Gloomietta was never 'dear' to me," Anise said viciously, but her mother continued regardless.

"—and then Lu—"

"Just shut up, Mama!" Anise stood up suddenly, pushing her mother away from her and knocking the tea tray to the floor. The small teapot burst open, spilling hot brown liquid everywhere, and the china teacups shattered. Anise knew she should care, since she was going to be Fon Master someday and thus it was her job to take care of the cathedral, but she couldn't. She couldn't afford to care. "Just—shut up! I don't want to hear it! I don't need help, I don't want to talk, and I don't want to hear it!" With that, she pushed past her mother and sprinted out of the library, and blind instinct led her to the chapel, which was thankfully empty at that time of day. Yet as she made her way to the center of the room, she stopped, eyes shut tightly, fists clenched.

This was where—after Ion died, this was where she'd run. And when she was sitting here, alone, crying her eyes out and fighting not to sob, the one who'd come to comfort her was—

"_Damn it_!" Anise spun, and kicked one of the stone pillars hard enough to accomplish nothing but bruising her foot. She didn't care. "Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it!" She ripped Tokunaga from her shoulders, and slammed him against the pillar, thwacking him once for every time she uttered the phrase. "Damn it, damn it, damn . . ." Hot tears started to spill down her cheeks, and while she'd started out with a burst of furious energy, it quickly drained out of her, and left her in a crumpled heap of sobs on the floor.

This time, there was no one there to comfort her.

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><p><strong>3.) Bargaining<strong>

Natalia had never been a particularly religious person.

She'd believed in the Score, as everyone else had, and likewise had believed in Yulia and Lorelei. But she'd never prayed, or even thought about it. She had even admitted to Ion, once, that she never saw much of a point in it, because as princess of Kimlasca-Lanvaldear, it was _her_ duty to make sure that her people's lives were better—not the duty of Yulia Jue, or Lorelei, or anyone else.

She held true to that belief now, and she did her best to make sure that the people of Kimlasca-Lanvaldear lived as comfortably as possible. Each day, she greeted her people with her head held high and her shoulders back. By the time she left her quarters every morning, she even had a smile on her face, small or large depending on what the situation demanded. Natalia was well-versed in smiles. While she was never fake in the past, she knew how to put on a diplomatic face when approaching her people, and making sure to practice her best smile in the mirror each morning before leaving her room helped. She could face her kingdom with a smile, to do right by them, whatever her own personal turmoil. Even if her beloved Aunt Susanne's health was worsening by the day over her grief of losing Luke and Asch, even if her Uncle was now cold enough to freeze over Mt. Zaleho, even if her father was constantly fretting over her, Natalia could overcome all of that in order to see right by Kimlasca, for the sake of her people, for the sake of herself, and for the sake of the two people that were most dear to her.

But while she was able to keep her head high, shoulders back, and lips quirked up in a pleasant smile for her subjects, Natalia needed to do _something_ to help with the pain that reduced her to tears each night, when she was alone in her quarters with no one to see. At first, she'd let herself simply drown in them, melting in her anguish, muffling her sobs with one of her soft, downy pillows. But as the nights turned into weeks, and then into months, she realized that she simply couldn't go on like that. Crying wasn't enough. She needed to _do_ something, _anything_—and she couldn't do it alone.

So she appealed to the highest power she knew.

Each night, starting with the second month, Natalia prayed to Lorelei. Sometimes she prayed to him through tears, sometimes with a calm voice, but always she prayed. Not for the prosperity of Kimlasca-Lanvaldear, as that was _her_ job and she was going to see to it that it got done. Nor did she pray for her Aunt Susanne to get better, or her Uncle to be any less cold, or her father to be any less fretful, though all of those things would have been nice. No, instead, as she stood on her balcony and looked up at the fon belt above, Natalia prayed for _them_.

"Please, Lorelei—please. Whatever it takes—I'm willing to do whatever it takes. Please, just let them come home. If—if it's too late for Asch, because of how—because of how he died, I—but please, _please_, you mustn't take Luke, as well. He still has too much life to live, and I—_we_ need him here. Don't you see? Everyone—Kimlasca, Malkuth, Daath—we all need him. There must be some way to bring him back—some way to save him. He can't—he can't really be gone. Please, Lorelei—please, just this once, just this one time, _please_ . . ."

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><p><strong>4.) Depression<strong>

After . . . everything, Tear returned to working in the Order.

She knew that she had no real reason to. She'd only ever joined the Oracle Knights in the first place in order to get closer to Van, and later to keep tabs on him. But Van was dead, now, and she'd had a hand in his death, and there was really no reason for her to continue working in the Oracle Knights. Still, just as there was no reason for her to continue, there was also no reason for her to stop. Tear didn't know what else she would do if she ceased being a soldier, and so she continued working, training and filling out paperwork as required.

To be entirely honest, it unsettled everyone around her.

Tear did exactly as much work as was required—no more, no less. She never showed any emotion while doing it, either. It wasn't that she was stoic, for if she was simply as serious as she'd always been before, that would have been fine. No, instead she seemed lifeless, like a drifter. Her blue eyes weren't hard, but neither were they bright. And she wasn't in the room with anyone else, but simply there. She never spoke unless spoken to, and when she did speak, her voice was toneless and her answers were monotonous. She was going through the motions of being an Oracle Soldier, certainly, but there was no real effort there—no passion.

And it didn't stop there.

Teodoro had always been a Watcher—it was his duty, as head of Yulia City. It was only natural, then, that he watched his adopted granddaughter, and noticed every change in her behavior, even though he didn't have the faintest idea of how to help her. He watched as she ceased singing, going against using even the most basic of fonic hymns in training exercises or battles. He watched as she stopped tending to the selenias in her garden, and as the flowers withered and died from lack of care. He watched as she retreated to her room immediately after coming home each day, as if to avoid having to speak to him or anyone else.

He questioned her about it, one morning as she was leaving to go to Daath. With one hand on her arm—her thin arm, thinner than he remembered, though it could have been his imagination—he pulled her lightly to the side, and spoke before she could have the chance to interrupt.

"Tear . . . why don't you stay home today? We could tend to your selenias together. I'm sure we could nurse them back to health."

"My selenias?" Tear's eyes flicked in the direction of her room, and she shook her head. "No, thank you, Grandfather. I have work to do. And my selenias are . . ." She swallowed, and he felt his heart splinter at the pain, perhaps unnoticeable to all but him, in her voice. "I'm moving on from them, Grandfather."

"Tear—"

"It's all right." She pulled her arm lightly from his grasp, and tried to smile, though the expression barely made it onto her face, and was so forced it was almost painful for him to look at. "I'm—all right. I need to go now, okay? Goodbye." With that, she turned, and all but hurried to leave. Teodoro watched her go, and once she was gone, he turned to head to her room—or more specifically, to her garden.

She may have lost interest in the flowers that brought her so much peace and delight once upon a time, but he would revive them and keep them living until she found joy in them once again.

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><p><strong>5.) Acceptance<strong>

When it came to death, fate could not be changed.

This was one thing that Colonel Jade Curtiss knew and believed in above all else.

Still, there was a part of him that had hoped, even if he would never admit it, for that single bit of fate to be proven wrong along with all the others.

It hadn't, though. Just as his own research had proven, Luke fon Fabre perished from fonon separation. There was still a chance, of course, that the big bang could take place, and Asch might be revived with Luke's memories—but even if he had Luke's memories, Asch was not him. Asch could and would never be him. And at the end of it all, that was all Jade needed to know in order to move on.

While Guy waited on the hill for Luke to return, while Anise acted like a terror in Daath, while Natalia put on a brave face for her kingdom and while Tear did her best to cope with the Oracle Knights, Jade returned to his duties in Grand Chokmah. He trained the new recruits, he completed his paperwork, and—in honor of Luke—he took up fomicry research again, to make life better for those replicas that remained in the world, and to ensure that none of them (or at least as few as possible) suffered fonon separation as he did. For this, he recruited Dist, who jumped at the chance to research fomicry with Jade again, even though Jade made him swear—under threat of pain, and quite a lot of it, at that—that he would never, ever, under any circumstances, attempt to birth another replica. Jade didn't quite trust Dist to keep his promise, but it was for that reason that it was best to keep him close, where Jade could keep an eye on him. Friends close, enemies closer, and all that.

It was safe to say that, between all of the different duties he had on his plate, Jade was kept pretty busy. It was for this reason that he and Peony didn't get a chance to talk until a few months after Luke had died, on an afternoon that Peony slipped out of the Imperial Palace to catch lunch with Jade at the local diner.

"Gailardia's still heading out to Tataroo Valley, huh?" Peony tossed back a drink, and Jade sighed, reaching for his own glass.

"I tried to dissuade him, to no avail. I'm starting to think that collar was more than just a fashion statement. Perhaps I should look into getting him a leash." Peony laughed as Jade took a drink, but then his tone turned a bit more somber.

"Well, you can't blame him for having hope, can you? It's not _really_ guaranteed that Luke won't make it back, is it?" Jade set his glass back down on the counter, though he didn't release it. Instead, his fingers tightened around it just a little bit.

"The dead don't come back to life, Your Majesty. I believe you're the one that convinced me of that."

"That was different, and you know it." Jade could feel Peony's eyes on him, though he didn't look over. "I'm not saying that someone should make a replica. All I'm doing is pointing out the fact that no one found a body."

"Luke was a replica. After death, a replica's fonons separate and rejoin the atmosphere. Finding a body would have been physically impossible." Jade took another drink, and could hear the eyeroll in Peony's tone.

"You know what I meant, Jade."

". . . Regardless." Jade set his empty glass down and stood up, finally turning to meet Peony's eyes. "Waiting around for phantoms will accomplish nothing. The best we can all do at this point is move on with our lives, and do what we can to not only atone for past mistakes, but perhaps work toward a better future." Peony seemed to consider this for a moment before he smiled, laughing a little under his breath. Jade raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Have I amused you?"

"No. Well, yes, actually." Peony stood up as well, and nudged Jade's shoulder with his own. "I was just thinking that it sounds like Luke wasn't the only one who changed." That said, Peony started walking toward the door, and—after tossing some gald onto the counter to pay for their meals—Jade followed.

"I'm afraid I don't quite follow, Your Majesty. I don't believe I've changed at all."

"You wouldn't, but everyone around you can see it clear as day."

"Hm. Well, it's a shame you haven't followed my example, then. You're due for some change yourself."

"That's cold, Jade."

"I only mean the very best, Your Majesty . . ."

Luke had died, but the world was still moving forward—and Jade, however he might have reacted to death in the past, was moving with it this time.


End file.
